Star Fox: The Deal
by Tankz745
Summary: A one-shot about an ill-fated business deal between Pigma and one of my OC's. My first story, don't kill me please.


**Meteo asteroid field**

Deep within the Meteo asteroid field a small ship slowly cruised along, carefully weaving it's way around various sized chunks of rock and ice. This region of the field was notorious for being incredibly densely packed with heavy metal asteroids, while said asteroids were rather valuable to almost every manufacturing industry in Lylat The extremely hazardous conditions had put an end to almost every serious mining attempt. As a result, this region was dotted with hundreds of abandoned mining outposts and a countless amount of old equipment. Some of the larger facilities were reclaimed by various pirates, criminals and mercenaries, but most of the smaller ones deeper in the region however were destined to be forgotten until the end of time.

Normally, nobody would ever fly in this region. Even the most desperate crews of independent mining ships wouldn't even dream of venturing far into this part of Meto, even pirates who usually had no sense of self preservation would ever fly here. This ship however, was no ordinary ship and it's pilot was no ordinary pilot as well. Pigma Dengar was leaning back in the reclining flight seat of the helm of his lakon class light freighter with one hand on the flight joystick and his other digging into an extra large bag of chips. Pigma was no stranger to Metos, and despite his attention being divided between his chips and flying he had no trouble maneuvering his path between the giant asteroids that could dwarf the Corneria navy's biggest capital ships.

Digging for more chips, Pigma accidentally released his grip on the bag. It just slowly floated away into the cockpit as his ship lacked any sort of artificial gravity system, along with plenty of other systems that almost every other ship had. Pigma had won the junky freighter in a betting match shortly after being kicked off of Wolf's team, having lost all of the money he had earned to his gambling addiction and a casino on Fortuna. While Pigma would never admit it, his ship was little more than a durasteel box patched with various bits of scrap metal along with the bare minimum to achieve space flight. It had no shields, no gravity, no emergency backup systems apart from the oxygen tank and mask Pigma kept behind the pilot seat. It's only weapons were two frontal mounted heavy caliber machine guns that lacked any sort of targeting system other than the expensive tracer rounds it came loaded with.

Pigma glanced at the monitor to his left and brought up the menu labeled 'contacts' with the keyboard, looking again for the faint signal his ship had picked up a few minutes ago. No other weak low frequency signal would be able to get through Metos, so background noise should have been a non-issue. However, the ship's computer had failed to find the signal, earning a small grumble from the pig. Despite his slowly diminishing confidence he kept flying deeper into the field towards the set of coordinates he was given by his rather enigmatic employer just hours ago.

After another hour of flying and two more bags of chips later, the ships computer finally picked up the rather elusive ultra-low frequency signal. Reorienting his ship with the sugar covered flight joystick in the correct direction, Pigma impatiently throttled up the engines, wanting to get to whatever his destination was as quickly as possible.

Another 30 minutes of flying, Dengar finally saw his destination. An old, rusted set of industrial buildings attached to one of the large rocky asteroids. A rusty cloud of various bits of debris floated around the structure, bits of scrap metal along with unrecognizable chunks of rusted machinery from whatever long bankrupt mining company that once owned the small outpost. Surprisingly, the outposts power seemed to still functioning, with the occasional red beacon light mounted on the large trusses sticking out of the asteroid were slowly pulsating, as well as the small hangar with its magnetic atmospheric shield seemed to still function as well despite the structures age.

Seeing that the small hangar was his only real option as his ship lacked any sort of docking tube, Pigma cut the throttle down to a slow crawl and began pushing his was through the brown cloud of rust and debris. It was easy enough to avoid the larger chunks, but the swarm of scrap components from the nearby wreckage of a gutted ore hauler was unavoidable, with a frequent thud as small bits of debris collided with the hull of the pig's ship. Most lacked the mass to do any real damage other that scratching the ship's already ruined navy-blue paintwork, other bits however were able to chip away at the relatively weak glass canopy.

One hard impact suddenly punctured a small hole in the cockpit, causing everything floating around the interior to get sucked towards the glass. Panicking, Pigma got out of the pilot seat as fast as his legs would allow and pushed himself over to a cabinet under the small bed in against the right wall. Grabbing a large roll of industrial fibertape, the pig realized however that the distinctive sound of venting atmosphere had unexpectedly stopped. The small landfill of food wrappers that had been floating around had all been sucked to the hole and had somehow sealed the leak. Sighing in relief, Pigma floated over to the impromptu seal and began covering it with tape.

Once satisfied with his tape repair, Dengar continued to fly towards the dimly lit hangar and eventually flew through the glowing atmospheric containment shield, the artificial gravity field of the outpost kicking in once he had completely entered the hangar.

Touching down on the floor with a dull _thud _that sounded though the hangar_,_ Pigma got up out of his seat and walked over to another cabinet under his bed. Grabbing his VenArms C15 blaster pistol from the cabinet and loading the gas magazine into the bottom of the grip, the small ammo indicator on the back of the receiver displaying an adequate 80% charge. Next, he grabbed the large duffel bag containing the "package" he was hired to deliver.

Briefly recalling the rather hazardous but simple job, he had been contacted shortly after winning his ship. He had no idea who or where his employer was, but they had offered plenty of money as an upfront payment before he had even left his apartment. His first task had been to fly out to Papetoon and collect a dropped package from some cave in the absolute middle of nowhere, finding an unmarked hexagonal metal box. He had no idea what it really was or what was in it. Any attempt he had made to open it without just smashing it had been pretty unsuccessful. His payment that he desperately needed was on the line anyways, better leave it alone he told himself.

Shoving his pistol into his sweatpants and throwing the duffel over his shoulder, the pig walked to the ship's main control console and input the engine shutdown command and then made his way to the rear access door. Stepping down the collapsible ladder and onto the hangar floor, Dengar immediately noticed the significant drop in temperature compared to his ship's interior. Whoever had kept this place running had clearly only cared about keeping it pressurized and the lights still on. O_h well, _Pigma thought_, could be worse I guess... _Walking out of the hangar and down the derelict hall the station's neglect had become even more apparent. Bits of durasteel paneling, chiped and rusted away stuck out into the hallway along with the occasional pipe and loose power conduit hanging from the ceiling.

Turning the corner and walking though a pressure door that had been jammed open with some pipe, Pigma entered a large room. From the collection of tables and benches thrown about along with what looked a small kitchen along the far wall, Dengar had assumed he had walked into the station's mess hall. Seeing nobody waiting for him, Pigma pulled up his smartphone and brought up the messages application. Just as he had remembered, the latest text from his employer only said:_"head to the cafateria, I'll be waiting for you"._ After taking a good look around and even poking behind the counter for something that would hopefully still be edible after years of sitting in the station, his search turned up nothing. _Shit, is this even the right place?... _

Turing around and heading for the door, _something_ landed on the foor behind him, giving Pigma a jump. Whatever it was was incredbly heavy due to the loud, metal _boom_ that seemed to shake the whole station it made. Quickly drawing his pistol and turning around, Pigma saw _**it. **_It was tall, easily standing at least twice Dengar's hight. Slowing panning up his view, he realized what or, _who_ he was looking at. Black and gunmetal grey thick armor plate of unknown make, with the occasional cyan glowing light. Two giant pistols were attacted to its hips, with huge gauntleted hands hovering a bit too close to said firearms.

Pigma contunied to stare upwards, up to the giant's head. A long helmet, clearly designed for a canid with a muzzle and two tall ears looked down at him. Two lifeless, glowing lenses stared back at him, as if looking deep into Pigma's soul. "Holy s-shit..." Pigma muttered to himself as the armored, vaguely canid figure continued to stare back at him, unmoving. "Are y-you my c-contact?" the pig sputtered out. After a long pause, it spoke in a deep, gravelly voice: **"Yes"**.

"Oh, u-uh good. Sorry ab-bout that..." Dengar muttered again, he lowered his pistol. He kept it out just in case this _thing _decided to get any ideas, but something told him his pistol would be effectively worthless in a fight with what or whoever this was. It spoke again: **"Do you have the package?"**. "U-uh, yeah...", Pigma quickly reached for the bag slung over his sholder and swung it around to grab the box from within it. Gingerly reaching out and handing it to the giant, who instantly took it in one hand. It seemed to stare at the box for what felt like _hours_, it's abilty to remain still could give a marble statue a run for it's money. Eventually, it looked back at Pigma, **"Yes, this appears genuine" **it said. The armored canid then seemingly produce a small data drive and tossed it to Pigma, who barely managed to catch it.

**"This drive contains the login details to a secure bank account with the remainder of your payment"** it said. **"Do not loose it"**. Pigma gave the drive a good look, fortunately it seemed legitimate to him, he then quicky pocketed the drive in his sweatpants. "Uh, thanks. We d-done here?". The canid gave him another long, soul-piercing glare. **"Yes"**. Pigma qiucky nodded at the armored figure and headed towards the door leading back into the hall. _Creepy fuck..._ Pigma thought to himself as he approached the door.

Shawn reached for the plasma pistol on his right hip and lined up a shot to the back Pigma's fatty head, the heads up display grafted into both of his eyes displayed exactly where the shot would land and pulled the trigger. The hypersonic bolt of superheated plasma shot it's way across the cafeteria and square into the back of the pig's head. It blazed a neat hole straight through Dengar's brain, killing him instantly. As soon at Shawn relocked the pistol to the magnetic rail on his hip, he contacted the TNV Anubis, a stealth corvette parked nearby the station with one of the many neural implants planted directly into his brain and spinal cord. **_"Pigma Dengar has been eliminated and the package is secure"_**.****The ship's captain responded: _"Good work Shawn, I'm sending a shuttle to pick you up. Make sure to set the timer on those antimatter charges you set up eariler, we can't leave any trace of our existence behind here". _**_"Of course"_**

The hardlight terminal built into the left forearm on Shawn's armor lit up allowing him to input the command to start the timer on the demolition charges. 15 megatons would be more than enough to annihilate the abandoned station and the surrounding area. Somebody might investgate the blast area eventally after decting the high-energy detonation, probally one of the Cornerian government's sponsored mercenary teams, but in the end it didn't matter. There would be nothing to find anyways after the blast. Shawn stepped towards the atmospheric shield in the station's hanger and steped out into the infinite void of space.

Using the small reaction control thrusters built into his armor, Shawn floated his way into the troop bay of the shuttle parked outside the hangar. His magnetic boots connecting with the floor of the shuttle as the rear ramp closed. The shuttle flew threw the rust cloud surrounding the old station, heavy hardlight shields flickering to intercept the larger bit of debris. The transport flew into the hangar abord the Anubis as the corvette's drive spooled up, rocketing away into the nine dimensions of slipspace. Moments later, the demolition charges on the astroid base went off, consuming the entire station and the surrounding area in a nuclear fireball.

**Author's notes:**

**Hi all, this is the first thing i've ever really writtien just for fun. It's obviously no masterpiece but I gotta start somewhere right? Criticism is welcome, I expect to see a ton of bad reviews (or no reviews at all). If people want/like this and want more I'll try and develop this into a bigger story.**


End file.
